Ultimatum
by JacquiDee
Summary: Randy's the World Heavyweight Champion. But when The Shield see it as an injustice and are responsible for his pregnant wife's abduction, will he be willing to give it up?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys! I'm back, sort of. This time, thanks to WWE'sFinestDiva2012, I'm trying my hand at some Randy. I'm not quite sure how long this is going to be quite yet, but hang with me. I (unfortunately) do not own Randy Orton, John Cena, or any other recognizable WWE stars. Those are property of, well, WWE, and Sara is property of WWE'sFinestDiva2012. Reviews will earn you chocolate (if you want to go out and buy some chocolate)! Well, I hope you like it. Happy Reading!**

* * *

**TLC**

* * *

"He's done it! He's done it! Randy Orton is a ten time World Champion!" screamed Michael Cole into his headset. Everyone in the arena was on their feet, cheers filling the space. The tired superstar stood in the middle of the ring, the defeated giant at his feet. One hand grasped the World Heavyweight Championship and the other was being raised by the ref. "Voices" was blasting through the arena as he mounted the second rope and threw his arms wide in his signature pose. The cheering went on for a good five minutes as he made his way back behind the curtain. A few of his good friends, mainly John and Sheamus, were standing near the screen, grinning. He got claps on the back and congratulations as he made his way to his tour bus. Opening the door revealed a slim, caramel-skinned brunette perched daintily on the couch, eyes on the screen that showed the pay-per-view. He leaned against the door frame and let his eyes roam over her. She was his epitome of perfection – more gorgeous than any diva could hope to be.

"What's on TV?" he teased lightly, not moving from his spot by the door. Large gray-green eyes turned in his direction and her full lips turned up in a smile.

"Nothing, just some silly WWE thing," she teased back. "I'm waiting for my brother's match you know." She was referring to John – she was the reason they were such good friends. He dropped his lips in an over-exaggerated pout and she laughed as she rose gracefully and wrapped her arms around his waist. In turn, his wound around her back and he automatically breathed in, inhaling her vanilla-and-sunshine scent. Her lips pressed lightly to his jawline before she pulled back. "Of course I saw your match, too. Why wouldn't I want to watch my gorgeous husband in a speedo?" Her squeals echoed through the parking garage as he swung her up over his shoulder and closed the door. Neither noticed the three sets of eyes watching coldly from the shadows.

* * *

**Present**

* * *

"Hey have you guys seen Sara?" Randy asked as he made his way through the back, having won his match. He had looked for her near the break room – she was almost always there when he competed. Heads shook the more he asked, but he refused to be worried. She hated it when he got upset. Sighing, he opened the door to the locker room and placed his belt neatly near his space. A hulking mass came in next and he smiled. "John have you seen your sister?"

"I haven't. C'mon man, don't tell me you lost your wife," his brother-in-law teased, dramatically placing his hand to his head. He grabbed a towel and ran it over his chest before sitting next to the current World Heavyweight Champion. "You know Sara. She probably got bored and went back to the bus to finish planning. Didn't you say you were taking leave to go the Bahamas or something?" Randy nodded, getting the same dreamy look on his face that he had when he first met his wife five years ago.

"Yeah. Our anniversary is coming up. I told her she shouldn't be flying, but she's been set on the Bahamas for years now. I can't say no."

"You, my man, are whipped. But you're right, surprisingly. Pregnant women don't fly," John announced, standing up and stretching. He worried about his sister's determination. She didn't think sometimes.

"She should be okay. Her doctor said that she should wait, go on vacation after she's had the baby. She was a little upset, but she listened. She loves that bump more than me," sighed the third-generation superstar dramatically. He toweled off and slipped into sweats, dragging the dreaded signature tee over his torso. Company rules stated he had to wear it when in the public eye and just about everyone he knew but John got sick of seeing their t-shirts. He leaned to the side, sighing as his joints cracked. A few more stretches and he said his goodbyes to Cena and the few other superstars in the locker room before making his way out to the tour bus.

He shook his head as he walked, not believing that his six-month-pregnant wife was still traveling with him. He tried to convince her to stay home the day that they'd found out but she'd been adamant – she wanted him to be there over the course of her pregnancy and, since he couldn't just take a nine month vacation, the solution, as she saw it, was to pack up her life and join him on the road. A smile formed on his face as he thought about Sara. They'd met at WrestleMania, thanks to her brother, and she had hated him at first. She said he was arrogant and cocky, words she still used to describe him, but lovingly. He'd decided to take up the challenge of winning her over and, before he knew it, he was in love. John had almost punched his face in when they'd come out publically, but Sara was happy and that's all that he cared about. He'd known pretty quickly that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and, four years later, they still acted like newlyweds. Add their soon-to-be baby boy into the mix and they were the stereotypical happy family. "Sara," he called as he opened the door. He froze mid-stride. The bus was destroyed. Chairs were overturned, picture frames were broken, and, unless his wife had gone on a hormonal rampage, someone had been there that shouldn't be. "Sara!" he yelled again, stepping over the broken glass and crumpled papers as he threw open the doors to the bathroom and the bedroom, his stomach plummeting when he couldn't find her. A small white rectangle taped to the wall near the door caught his eyes and, as he read it, fury and fear coursed through him. His free hand clenched and slammed into the wall and his back slid down the wall of the bus until he hit the floor. The paper floated to the ground as he lifted his hands to his face.

_Randy_

_Taking advantage of a weakened Champion at TLC? That's an injustice. So we give you an ultimatum. Relinquish your belt on air on Friday. And if you don't? Well, Sara seems like an awful lot of fun._

_-Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins_

_The Shield_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hope you guys are liking this so far. I'm having a lot of fun writing it and I hope it reflects as such. There's a box down there, yeah the review box, that's calling your naaaame. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed already. Much love and happy reading!**

* * *

**The Shield**

* * *

Seth Rollins paced nervously in the cramped, relatively dark space. Getting thrown through that stack of tables by Ryback had altered his perception of "injustice", but he wasn't about to share that with the others. He shot another look at the beauty tied up to the wooden chair. You could tell she was a Cena by birth and an Orton by marriage – Roman had been less than gentle with her, but she hadn't cried in fear or pain. Yet. That made Dean unhappy since he wanted to use her tears to their advantage (really, how had he gotten himself into this?), and when Dean was unhappy, they were all antsy. He looked at her – what was her name? Sara? – again and her gray-green eyes were piercing as she stared right back at him. Every other superstar they had tormented up to this point had begged for mercy or shown fear and this 5'5" 115 pound not even technically trained woman was staring him down. Silently thankful that both Roman and Dean had gone out and left him with Sara, he looked away quickly.

"You know, you at least could've put down a cushion," she finally spoke and her tone was annoyed, but not worried. And honestly, why should she be? Her husband was a ten time World Champion, her brother was a ten time World Champion, her best friend was the first Irish born World Champion and all they were was a band of rogue NXT rookies. She had minimal reason to even think that she'd be there for long. Seth looked at her again, forcing a sneer.

"We aren't doing this according to your schedule Mrs. Orton," he bit out sarcastically, but his heart just wasn't in it. She cocked her head to the side and, dammit she looked really pretty like that. Her eyes roved his face and he felt the need to look away. He noticed as her eyes widened and darted to the door behind him.

"So, Seth, who's schedule are you doing this on? Not yours. Not Roman's. So Dean's then?" she pushed. Even so, he couldn't help but notice she had a very pretty voice. "I mean, you can't look at me now. Roman didn't know how to tie the knot on the ropes, which are terrible for my skin, by the way, around my ankles. Dean's the leader, right?" He's mildly surprised that she is able to list off information about them. It's obvious she watches her husband compete.

"We are righting injustices. It has nothing to do with who's in charge," he snapped, though she did manage to strike a nerve. Dean had been acting like a badass he wasn't recently. The door handle jerked and Sara shot him a knowing look before averting her gaze and dropping her head. Roman strode in, a bag in his hands, Dean following close behind.

"She didn't bitch too much did she?" Dean sneered, slamming the door behind him. Seth opened his mouth to mention the cushion, but, at her probing gaze, promptly shut it again.

"Nah. You can't even tell she's an Orton. Terrible trash-talker," he answered instead. He didn't understand how the look she skewered him with at that moment went unnoticed by the others, but there had to be a reason she was being quiet now. Ortons knew what they were doing. "She still hasn't cried yet." Roman's laugh had Sara shifting uncomfortably and even Seth looked slightly worried.

"She will," the hulking man promised darkly, pulling out a short wooden club decorated with small spikes out of the bag. Her eyes widened and she shot an almost unnoticeable glance at her stomach. Seth nodded absentmindedly in Roman's direction, furrowing his brows at Sara. She seemed terrified, but she wasn't looking for a way out. She kept shifting, trying to keep her stomach away from the three of them. His eyes zeroed in on a small, imperceptible bump that showed ever so slightly through her long dress and his stomach plummeted. She wasn't….pregnant? Was she?

* * *

**Randy**

* * *

He couldn't tell you how long he sat on the floor hating the three rookies that had his wife but, eventually, logic took over his brain again. He began to think and automatically pushed himself up off of the floor, grabbing the piece of paper that altered everything. He wasn't the Apex Predator for nothing, and he could promise that those three would pay dearly for this mistake. But first, he had to find where they were holding her. God, he hoped they knew she was pregnant. He was halfway out the door when his phone rang. The caller ID read "Unknown", but his sharpened intuition was nagging at him and he flipped open the irritating object. Terse silence fills the air, but he would not be the first to speak.

"Oh Randall?" a sing song voice called over the phone. His vision swam red as he recognized the voice of Dean Ambrose.

"Where is she?" he growled out. Laughter filled the other end, but his keen senses noted that there were only two voices. A cry floated through the speakers and you would have to be deaf not to recognize its femininity.

"Now, now, Randy. You're playing this game by our rules. You will answer when spoken to or Sara will be crying much louder than that," teased the voice on the other end of the line. Randy turned and slammed his fist into the outside of his bus until his knuckles were bloody, but he didn't say a word. Clearly, they didn't know she was pregnant and he didn't know if telling them would save her or condemn them both. "There that's a good boy." He literally bit down on his tongue to keep from lashing out. "So. Are you relinquishing your belt on Friday?"

"I have no guarantee that if I do you will give me back my wife," he answered tensely. It wasn't as if he wouldn't trade a million Heavyweight Championship belts to have Sara back, but the last thing anyone needed was the three of them having his wife and his belt. There was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone – they had clearly expected him to be frantic. Which he was. He just happened to be a calculating predator and not someone's fearful prey.

"Our word is true. You have until Friday," the voice was not Ambrose's anymore. Rollins, he thought to himself.

"And if I want her back before Friday?" he couldn't help himself from asking. It was Wednesday now. God only knows what they could do to her in two days' time.

"I won't let them hurt her," was the muttered, nearly silent response. Before he could question it, Reigns was talking into the phone. "Patience is a virtue. See you soon." The line went dead before he could respond. For their sake, he thought to himself, he hoped not.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up guys! The holiday's sorta detained me a little. No fear, I should have this up by the time school starts up again. Reviews seriously make me so much happier when writing. Thanks so much for all the support. Happy reading!**

* * *

**Randy**

* * *

He snapped the phone shut; it was no use to him without the three, er, two irritating rookies on it. He wasn't much of a thinker, more of a doer, but Rollins had him pausing. Surely he had imagined the response. He couldn't think of a reason why he would, but it didn't make sense for one of the members of The Shield to protect his Sara. Shaking his head in frustration, he slammed the door to his bus shut and strode determinedly back into the arena. Members of the staff paused in their hellos and quickly cleared the hallways – no one liked to be near the Viper when he was in a mood like this. He threw open the door to the locker room, not even flinching at the loud clang it made as it resonated off the wall. The room was nearly full of superstars who froze when they caught sight of him. A quick glance in the mirror across the room showed blood streaks over his face from his still wounded hand and a certain glint to his eyes that made him look…dangerous.

"Randy? What's up man?" John asked cautiously. Now fully dressed and hanging around for God only knows what reason, his brother-in-law stepped forward carefully.

"Sara's gone," he spat, striding forward and shoving the note at his friend. Confusion skittered across John's face as he bent his head to read. It was nearly silent in the locker room. When the Cenation leader looked up again, the few wrestlers near him quickly retreated. John was just as tough as Randy when he wanted to be and the pure fury in his eyes right now was no joke. "They called me. I heard her. She…sounded like she was in pain," he hesitated as he explained, trying to keep the weight of the situation out of his mind knowing that he would focus much better without emotions clouding his judgment.

"They hurt her?" growled Cena. Momentary concern filtered into his eyes. "Do they know she's pregnant?" he asked in a whisper. Randy shook his head slightly. No one around them was in hearing range, having backed to the far corners of the room not daring to challenge the company's top dogs, but he still lowered his voice.

"It sounded like Rollins said he wouldn't let them hurt her."

"Why's everyone backing away from them like a bunch of sissies?" Punk's voice sliced across the room. Dead silence followed as Randy slowly turned around. Uncertainty shadowed Punk's features and Heyman quickly scuttled out of the room cradling the WWE Championship belt like a child. Punk shrugged. "Isn't Sara here to entertain you?" he jeered. In a flash, Randy was across the room, his forearm at Punk's throat. The champion feebly clawed at his arm, but he merely pressed harder.

"Let me make something clear. You will not talk about my wife. Ever. Secondly, no she isn't. If you know anything about this, you have 10 seconds to talk before I send you back to Chicago in a coffin," he hissed, no sarcasm or joking in his words. Punk looked confused when John slammed the note into his chest, using a bit more force than necessary. The surrounding superstars inched closer, curiosity and caution the main vibes in the room. Punk's eyes scanned the words before he looked up again, no teasing in his face but no pity either. He roughly handed back the piece of paper.

"Why would I know anything? I'm not working with them dammit!" he complained, futilely attempting to shove off the World Heavyweight Champion. A desperation the Second City Savior had never before seen in the Viper flitted across his face. He leaned very close to Punk's face who, in turn, struggled to move farther away.

"Punk, please. They called me. She was crying in the background. You know my Sara. She doesn't just cry. Please. She's…pregnant," he muttered, hating himself for begging but knowing he'd do anything to get her back. Punk's eyes widened until they filled his face.

"She's pregnant? And they hit her?" he growled, a different sort of anger filling his eyes. The man wasn't a saint, but they all knew he didn't tolerate violence towards women. Especially women in…delicate condition. This time, Punk was successful in shoving off his captor. He quickly mounted the nearest bench.

"Listen up sissies. The Shield's got Sara. They're hurting her. And she's…" he trailed off, looking down at Randy for permission. He lifted a hand as if to say he was too tired to object anyway. "And she's with child." Angered roars erupted throughout the room. The superstars joked and pranked, but one person's family was everyone's family and they were getting pretty damn sick of The Shield. Punk held up his hands and started yelling for everyone to shut up. "They want Randy to give up his belt on Friday, but there's no guarantee he'll get Sara back. Is there anything else we need to know?"

"They called me from an unknown number. They said they'd call and I'm…to answer when spoken to," he spit out the last like through gritted teeth. "I just want my wife back," he finally admitted, letting defeat show on his face. Most of his co-workers had never seen the Apex predator in such condition and even past enemies like Del Rio, Barrett, and even Show were offering their help. Punk and the others waited for direction but it was clear that Randy was in no condition to do so, not only with his mood, but his injuries as well.

"Alright guys. C'mon. We've gotta find where they're holding her," John intervened, taking over for his extended family member. "Sheamus. Stay here with Randy? In case he gets a call or something," John asked the Irishman. He looked like he was about to protest (and no wonder, Sara was one of his closest friends), but a certain way the Cenation leader looked at him rang a bell and he realized he was being asked to stay for two reasons. One, Randy wasn't embarrassed to be emotional around him and two, he was probably the only one with a fighting chance of holding back Orton should he receive another message.

"I'm not staying here. I have to go look for her!" Orton interrupted, lurching to his feet.

"Randy, you're in no condition to go out there. Just stay here, wait for a call. It'll be less suspicious if you appear to be considering their demand instead of off with me or, even worse, Punk," John reasoned. Sitting in defeat, Randy nodded and watched with upset eyes as the entire locker room spread out to find his Sara.

* * *

**The Shield**

* * *

"We aren't giving her back!" yelled Ambrose, shoving Seth in the chest. He stumbled backwards and lunged forward, but slammed into Roman's hand as did Dean when he rose to the challenge. During the call to Randy, Roman had not gently but not roughly, sank the club into Sara. He'd been aiming for her stomach but, confirming Seth's fears, she had folded herself in at the last minute and the blow hit her on the shoulder. Fearing a repeating blow, she let out a cry. Making him feel like crap, she locked eyes with him while the tears streamed down her face. Which is what led to the current dispute – Rollins had wasted little time in slipping between Reigns and their captive, refusing to move even when Roman had raised the club at him. He had ignored Dean when asked what the hell he was doing and his suggestion of returning their hostage had led to their fight.

"You idiot, why are you pissing off one of the biggest stars in the business?" he groaned, still not moving from his guardian position. Sara hadn't made noise and her tears stopped relatively quickly, leading to grudging respect from even Ambrose.

"We are rising to the top! Don't you see that you have to go after the big guys to get anywhere in this company?" their "leader" retorted, lunging forward only to be snagged by Roman again.

"Fighting amongst ourselves is only going to give Orton easier access to her!" he growled in his deep voice.

"Why would you even suggest giving her back? Are you turning your back on us?" Dean yelled again, snatching the bat from Roman's slack hand and raising it over his head. Seth dove at him, succeeding in knocking it out of his hands before Roman yanked them apart again.

"No! You can't keep hitting her!" he shouted, returning to his position of protection.

"Why not!? Orton's not just going to hand us his belt!"

"She's pregnant you idiot!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, my muses were kinda all over the place. So, I think this is the last chapter. I mean, unless something strikes me that fits just right. It's been a lot of fun writing this and I hope you all had as much fun reading it. Your support has been overwhelming. I hope you liked It WWE'sFinestDiva2012! PM me if you have any other great ideas! Happy Reading!**

* * *

**The Shield**

* * *

Sara's head snapped up and she shot daggers at him. Her tears had stopped as soon as Dean had stopped talking to Randy, but she hadn't straightened her cramped-over-her-stomach position. Roman cocked an eyebrow and Dean's mouth fell open. They both trained their eyes on her stomach which was slightly more swollen than it had been even at TLC. There was a moment of charged silence and Sara looked up at him. Looking unsure, she straightened up slightly, stretching her dress over her stomach, and he stepped a little closer to the chair. Her thin fingers clutched lightly onto the leg of his pants and he wasn't the only one who looked curiously in her direction.

"What are you doing?" Ambrose asked roughly. It wasn't exactly a questioning tone more of a "what-the-hell-are-you-doing" tone. Her eyes glinted in a way similar to her husband's and she jerked her chin up in the air. She didn't say anything. He growled in frustration and gestured in her direction. "You see? She's so damn stubborn!"

"It's all she knows! Her husband is Randy Orton! Her brother is John Cena! It's the way she was raised! No one's punished you for being a jackass have they?"

"My question," Roman interrupted, glaring at both of them, "is why you keep defending her." At this, a familiar look, one that made Dean nervous and even Roman step back, crossed Seth's face. His right hand clenched into a fist and he laid his left hand hesitantly on her back. She flinched slightly, then relaxed, seeming to sense the safe haven.

"Because I lost my wife and my unborn child to three lowlifes in an alley four years ago tomorrow. It's a hell that I wouldn't wish on anyone, not you, not Randy, not even the big red monster himself. I won't be the reason she loses the life inside her," he snapped, fury clouding his eyes. "Now I've gone along with all of your injustice crap so far but I'm not going to tolerate you hitting her." Dean's trademark smirk appeared on his face.

"What are you gonna do? Fight us?" he prodded, stepping forward next to Reigns. Seth looked around for a second, reached up and yanked a loose rod from the ramshackle shack roof and twirled it carefully in his hands.

"If I have to." That was the last thing he said before the door burst open and a pissed off Cenation leader, a furious hooligan and a near crazy Viper were flooding the room.

* * *

**Randy**

* * *

Sheamus stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on him. Randy sat very still, leaning on his forearms and glancing at his phone every few seconds. He'd gotten a better grip on his emotions and the one tell-tale sign of his anxiety was his silence. His eyes flickered up to the Great White every once in a while, an almost frustrated look crossing his face. It was in one of these moments of awkward eye contact that his phone buzzed. His hand snapped out faster than he thought possible and Sheamus moved forward slightly, ready to restrain him or blow up screaming at the three idiots on the other end of the phone. Randy's shoulders loosened, a little tension draining out of his face and he clicked the answer button, pressing the phone to his ear.

"John?" he asked into the phone, not bothering with a preamble. The Irishman across the room relaxed his stance, leaning back against the wall.

"Hey, we think we found her." He jerked into a ramrod straight position, startling Sheamus.

"Where is she?" he hissed, hands clenching. He stumbled to his feet, pacing nervously, ignoring the curious stare of his friend.

"There's this little shack thing, just outside of the arena. I think they use it for storage. Justin checked the windows out and she's in there," his brother-in-law hesitated as he explained, clearly not wanting to tell the rest.

"Talk," the Viper snapped, not bothering to be polite. John sighed.

"She's tied up to a chair. Rollins has a pipe," he finished, fury leaking into his voice as well. This was his sister, not just Randy's wife. He snapped the phone shut, striding towards the door. He glared up at Sheamus, who had moved to block his way.

"You're a good friend, so listen carefully. They found my Sara and if you aren't out of my way in three seconds, I won't hesitate to send you to the hospital along with Ambrose, Reigns, and Rollins," he explained, enunciating his words slowly. A spark of anger ignited in the Irishman's eyes, but he was smart enough to realize that it's aimed at the rookies that took one of his best friends, not him.

"Where is she?" the Great White demanded, his accent thickening with annoyance.

"I'll explain on the way."

* * *

He did explain, as Sheamus listened angrily. When the shack came in sight, it took all of his careful control to not bust in the door right then and there. John and his, er, search party had met with Punk and his and the superstars milled restlessly, waiting for their shots at The Shield. All eyes turned to the Viper as he strode straight to John, in the middle of the group.

"You, me, Sheamus. That's all that's going in right away." Agitated murmurs broke out amongst the superstars and Punk looked like he was about to speak when Randy opened his mouth. "There's no damn way I'm sitting out on this, John either. It's personal to us and if one of you wants to stop Sheamus, go ahead." The challenge went unanswered due to the look of anger burning in the green eyes of the Great White. "You can all come in later and do what you want; I need to make sure Sara gets out okay." Of course, mentioning his wife (and with the knowledge of her delicate condition, no less), shut the protesters up. "Ready?" he asked, locking eyes with his brother-in-law and best friend. John smiled tightly.

"When am I not? Sheamus?" The look on the face of their Irish friend was almost humorous.

"Fella, I was born ready." At these confirmations, Randy stalked towards the shack, superstars clearing a path for him and the others. He barely paused to take a breath before ramming his shoulder through the rickety wooden door. Reigns and Ambrose looked stunned for a moment and Sheamus and John didn't give them a chance to recover. He wasted little time in making his way across the small room. Rollins jumped out of the way, dropping the pipe or rod or whatever it was. He couldn't be bothered with the rookie at the look on his wife's face. Her gray-green eyes filled with tears and her beautiful smile broke out across her face.

"Hi babe," she breathed as he ripped the ropes carefully off of her wrists and ankles. As gently as he could, he jerked her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, reigning in his fury and trying to be careful of the bleeding cuts along her right shoulder and down her arm. The chaos around them was in the back of his awareness as he breathed in her calming scent. Of course, Sheamus's gleeful laugh drew their attention. He'd gone after Reigns, who managed to land a punch to the jaw of their friend. Sheamus was laughing and Roman was backing away slowly when the Great White chose to lunge. Randy turned his focus to Rollins, a black cloud of anger rolling across his face. He released his wife, bending and retrieving the fallen pipe. To his credit, Seth didn't flinch, merely raised his hands in defense. Just as he was about to bring the pipe into contact, Sara scrambled in front of the rookie. Confusion reigned the dominant emotion on her husband's face as he brought the pipe to an abrupt stop inches from her arm.

"Sara. Get out of the way," he growled, not attempting to control his temper. She straightened her spine and he recognized the 'Excuse me?' look on her face that she usually showed when John told her to do something.

"No. Randy, honey, listen. He didn't hurt me. Really. He was the one protecting me from those," she broke off, clearly trying to find a word that described exactly how she felt about Ambrose and Reigns, "those people. He was only holding the pipe to protect me." Her husband looked confused, but didn't relinquish his weapon.

"He's guilty by association," he snapped, making eye contact with Rollins. The man didn't look like he disagreed and was trying to step around Sara, who was stubbornly jerking on his arm.

"If you want to hit him," she said, eyes glinting, as she tightened her grip on Seth's arm and stood straight up, "then you're going to have to go through me." He growled under his breath, not bothering to hide his frustration as he chucked the pipe at Ambrose's head.

"Fine. Come on Sar, we gotta go. You too," he added sullenly, insistently picking her up despite her protests. John and Sheamus retreated with them, slowly backing out in front of the group, much to the amusement of Dean and Roman.

"Get back here Seth!" Dean shouted as they made their way out of the shack. Sara smiled widely as she saw the entire locker room waiting for her, cheering when Randy emerged, holding her carefully. "Cowards!" Her husband froze halfway back to the group, slowly turning back to face the two remaining members of The Shield. One of his trademark disturbing smiles grew on his face and he nodded in the direction of the shack.

"Your turn," he called, addressing the rest of the roster. The look on Dean and Roman's faces made him laugh as the superstars surged forward.

* * *

**Seth**

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay? I still think you should go to the hospital," Randy said for the sixth time as he carefully wrapped gauze around the cuts on Sara's arm. Seth looked up from the bench he was sitting on in the trainer's room (one look at the Viper had sent the man from the room with little protest) and caught the roll of her eyes.

"Babe, I'm fine. Little Caden Randall's fine too. They didn't touch my stomach," she insisted, a small smile on her face. She placed a hand on his cheek, trying to calm him down and, in response, he leaned into her touch and a small smile crossed his face. Seth felt like he was intruding on their private moment and looked away. "Can I see my brother now?" Randy sighed, leaning over to kiss her forehead, before nodding and standing up. He moved to the door and opened it, revealing a worried Cenation leader and an anxious Irishman.

"Sara," John breathed, side-stepping the Apex Predator and carefully wrapping his arms around his sister. Her eyes welled up and she was hugging him back. Seth looked down at the floor, feeling awkward – he was, after all, part of the plan that had taken her in the first place. The heavy hand on his shoulder startled him and he jerked his eyes up nervously to meet the eyes of his ex-hostage's husband. He flinched slightly away from his gaze. Both of their eyes turned to Sara. She was laughing as Sheamus scooped her up and squeezed her tightly.

"Thank you," he finally said, his voice rough. "We weren't going to tell people she was pregnant. She…she miscarried at the end of her second trimester two years ago. She wanted to wait until she'd entered her third. She knew that there might be complications, but she figured she'd have to explain her baby bump eventually. Thank you for protecting her. I don't think she'd have been able to handle it if she'd lost him. She's named him and painted the nursery and," the Viper trailed off, clearing his throat. He sat down heavily next to Seth and leaned on his forearms, interlacing his fingers. "And I wouldn't be able to live if she didn't." Seth forced a small smile.

"I lost my wife four years ago to three druggies in an alley. She was pregnant. I'd never force that on anyone. Not even you," he joked weakly, looking at the floor. A side of Randy that no one but Sara, John, and maybe Sheamus ever saw came to the surface as he laid a comforting hand on his arm.

"You're welcome in our family anytime," he murmured, standing up. Seth looked up at this, feeling confused. A half smile appeared on Randy's face. "Come on. Come meet them."


End file.
